


The Kindness of Fate

by f0rever15elf



Series: The Seamstress [1]
Category: The Great Wall (2017)
Genre: F/M, Food mention, Minor Angst, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, blood mention, vague sex reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27076297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf
Summary: A seamstress’s life sees many visitors, none of whom ever stay, but when one brooding Spaniard comes to see you, you find yourself praying he does
Relationships: Pero Tovar/Reader, Pero Tovar/You
Series: The Seamstress [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976128
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	The Kindness of Fate

The life of a seamstress was not one that you would ever be quick to label as “exciting.” Day in and day out spent spinning and dying thread, stitching cloth, and weaving fibers in the confines of your little cottage just off the main gathering area of town. Your hands are always full of pin pricks and you always have some sort of bandage wrapped around your mottled fingers, discolored by whatever dye you had taken to recently. When you aren’t sewing, you are selling. You peddle your clothes from a small attached room that juts off your main home; simple and organized to show off your mastery of your craft. You sew for all sizes; newborn to elder, man or woman, it mattered not to you who bought your wares, just that what you deliver to them was the best work they could find. Sometimes, people even commission you, asking for you to help with stitching a beautiful wedding dress, or new clothes for a firstborn’s arrival, or a new fur cloak for the chilling winter nights.

As you took care of the town, so did they take care of you, sending travelers your way when their ventures had worn their clothes threadbare and hole-ridden. You met many a noble adventurer in your time, sharing stories and meals with them as your nimble fingers worked to refasten seams or affix a patch before sending them on their way again, your coin purse a few coins heavier. No one ever stayed long, the call of the road too strong to ever keep anyone under your roof for too long. And you’re fine with this, content to sew and talk with the town’s children as they came to play out front your door, hoping for something sweet you had taken the time to make.

You will never forget the day you first met him, however, riding into town aback a beautiful black horse, his head set as battle-hardened eyes scan the crowd. You stand at your window, watching as the man who had seen far too long on the road without proper grooming rides along side his friend, this one with much lighter eyes, both in color and demeanor. They stop to speak to one of the neighborhood children who ogles them with wide eyes, and he points in your direction. Your eyes widen as they lock with the dark eyed man’s. A scar mars his left eye, a memory of a battle passed and you realize that there is something about him so alluring, that even through the grime of travel, you wish to meet him.

Smoothing the front of your dress and apron down, you move to the door, sticking your head out to wave to them. “Weary travelers! Welcome!” Your voice is kind and your smile is welcoming as the two approach, dismounting with the tired grunts of men who had been riding for far too long. “I saw the boy point you my way. What may I help with today? In search of some new tunics or breeches, perhaps? Travel does awful things to stitching.” The man with the scar grunts, his head still tilted down as he looks to the one with what you can see now are beautiful blue eyes.

“Yes actually,” the blue eyed man says with a playful smile, eyes shining in a jovial light. “My name is William and this is my partner Tovar. We’ve been on the road for nearly a year now and the clothes we wear under our armor have grown quite distressed. The boy told us you were the one to see about a fitting and some new clothes!” You chuckle and nod, gesturing for them to enter.

“Have a look around to see if my craft is what you need. If so, it would be an honor fit you both. I would just ask you seek out a bath before hand. I wouldn’t say you currently smell of roses and lavender.” You grin, trying to ignore the quiet one’s gaze as his eyes follow you around the little cottage. “I can offer the use of my wash basin, and I have a blade should either of you wish to use it, but I can only aid one of you. I’d recommend the other go to the inn to seek out a bath there.” The one called William chuckles and nods, running his fingers over some of the heavier stitched cloth.

“I can’t say I am offended at that. We ran out of soap quite a while ago and simply rinsing doesn’t quite kill the whole smell.” He turns back, looking to his companion as you move to your work bench, picking up a few swatches of fabric. “Well? What do you think?” Tovar grunts and nods at his companion and you decide he must not be a man of many words. “Perfect! Well, I suppose I’ll seek out the inn then, perhaps find a good lady to aid me in my endeavors there, and I’ll leave Tovar here with you. Don’t mind the scowl, he’s really quite the softy- hurk!” William doubles over as Tovar socks him in the stomach, grumbling about how his is _not_ soft, and William wheezes out a laugh as he stumbles backwards. “I’ll, haaa, leave you to it then,” he barely chokes out, stumbling back to his horse.

“Well, you certainly seem to have an interesting relationship with your compatriot there.” A small laugh leaves your lips as you move to begin drawing water for his bath from the barrel you keep inside, his eyes continuing to follow you as you work. “You can make yourself at home, Tovar. It will take a while to draw your bath. Are you hungry?” At the mention of food, he lifts his head a bit more and you take that as a yes. “Then I will cook for you and you can bathe after your stomach is satisfied.”

And so you begin your care for the stoic, scowling man as he waits for his partner to return. You don’t learn much of him, just that he is a sellsword who has been traveling for most of his life and that he really dislikes carrots as he picks them out of his stew like a child. You have to resist the urge to laugh as he sets them on the table, scowling the whole time.

William returns sometime while Tovar is in his bath, looking freshly shaven and clean as the day he was born. He smells of rosemary and lemon, the signature soap of the inn owner’s daughter and a knowing smile crosses your lips as you begin his fitting, conversing with him lightly. He was just her type. You learn that the two won’t be staying long, just long enough to resupply and to have their garments sewn, and this doesn’t surprise you. After all, no one ever stays long. When Tovar finishes his bath, he returns looking as clean as William, the scruff across his jaw shaved away leaving only his mustache. His jaw is strong and his shoulders broad, no longer hidden under his armor. Without the weight of the extra hair, you realize his hair has a light curl to it and it suits him. “I’m almost done with William,” you smile at him. “I’ll take care of you in just a moment.” His eyebrow raises at your choice of words and you grin, looking back to the blue eyed man to continue your conversation.

True to their word, the moment you had sewn the last stitch of the clothes the sellswords requested, they gather their things and saddle their horses, on to their next adventure. Tovar lingers in your doorway for just a moment, watching you as you rummage through your baskets of your crafts before turning to leave. He has just hoisted himself onto his horse when you come running out, a bundle in your arms as you call for them to wait just a moment. Tovar’s face softens imperceptibly as he looks to you, eyebrow raised. “I’ve prepared this for you, for your travels. A few of my home made cakes of soap, and some dried meats. I’ve also given you a new whetstone for your blades. May your feet be swift and may Fortune smile upon you.” Tovar takes the pouch from you with gentle thanks, his hand lingering on yours for but a moment before he stuffs the pouch into his saddlebag, nodding to William.

“Fair winds!” The blonde calls with a wave before spurring his horse, galloping off towards his next adventure, Tovar at his heels. You watch as they go, feeling the tug of a longing for the Spaniard with the scar over his left eye as he rides off towards the road he calls home.

Months roll on after the departure of the odd partnership and the seasons shift, the nights growing colder as your sewing turns from summer cottons to winter furs. It never got unbearably cold here, especially not in your little cottage where you diligently keep the fire crackling away. The thicker needles you use to work with the furs hurt substantially more as you prick yourself, and the number of bandages on your fingers grows. But it’s all part of the craft that you pour your heart into. Today, you find yourself dealing with a particularly difficult set of fox pelts by the fire, your hands aching from the strain of passing the thick thread through the tough hide as gentle profanities slip past your lips.

“Such a pretty mouth to be saying such filthy words,” comes a deep, gruff voice from the door and you jump, pricking your hand again. You spin around with your thumb in your mouth to sooth the prick and your eyes widen when you see the grumpy looking Spaniard from months before. Standing, you smile, dropping your hand to rub the pad of your finger.

“Tovar! You’ve come to visit again! Praise to Fate for bringing you back to this little village.” He stands there awkwardly under your praise as you come to usher him inside. “The night is cold, come warm yourself by the fire. Is William with you? Mary at the inn has been by so many times to tell me about him and his eyes like the ocean. I don’t believe she has ever even seen the ocean.” You laugh, taking his arm to lead him to the fire to warm himself and feel a small swelling of pride when you recognize the smell of your soap on his skin.

“ _S_ _í_ , William is with me. He went straight to the inn upon our arrival.” That beautiful accent is still strong as ever and you love it, a pleasant tingle running through you. Tovar takes his seat, pulling off his gloves as he watches you move to put another log on the fire.

“And you came here. It’s very good to see you again, my friend. I’m pleased to see that your travels have not been too hard on you. Tell me, are you hungry?” He grunts in affirmation, his eyes following you as they had the first time he visited your home all those months ago. “I’ve just finished a big pot of stew, so I’ll get you a bowl while you warm up.” As you move around, his eyes on you, you hum softly and he finds it so pleasing to his ears. You hand the bowl and a bit of crusty bread to him as you take a seat by him again, picking up you furs to finish sewing. “Are you and William just passing through again?”

“Mmm,” he affirms, greedily gulping down his stew which he marks has no carrots this time. Since that day you first met him, you had taken to preparing it without carrots every time, just on the off chance you would find him at your hearth once more. Fate was a curious mistress. “We are only here for the night. On the way to another job.” You deflate a bit, hoping he would have said they were staying a bit longer, but you can’t begrudge him his livelihood.

“Such adventure you must see. Too much for my blood, I’d think.” You smile at him before looking back to the fur, pressing the needle through again. “I should like to give you this before you leave. I’m almost done with it, and it will help to fight off the chill of the winter nights as you make camp along your path.”

“I do not have the money to pay for such a luxury, _hermossa_.” His mother tongue sounds so beautiful, but the words are so foreign, you know not what he means.

“I said give, not sell. It will be a gift to you for bringing a smile to my face with a return visit. I don’t believe I’ve ever had a traveler visit me more than once before. I quite like it I think.” You hiss as you prick yourself again, blood beading up on the pad of your finger. You move to suck on it as you did earlier until Tovar takes your wrist, pulling your hand to him. He digs in his side pouch still tied to his belt, pulling out a wrap of cloth that he uses to gingerly tie around the small wound with a tenderness that strictly conflicts with his rough exterior.

“You should be more careful. Even such small wounds may fester.” He smooths down the bandage before looking up to you with those rich, dark eyes that shine in the light of the fire. For a moment, you’re captivated, drawn like the moth to the light of the fire. You don’t think you have ever seen such beauty in eyes before. The intensity of his stare lights a fire in your stomach that rivals that which burns in your hearth and you clear your throat, leaning back as you look away, your cheeks hot. He lets your hand slip from his grasp as you begin to sew again.

“Have you a place to stay, Tovar?” He stands to serve himself a second helping from the pot hanging over the fire, shaking his head.

“I’d rather not be anywhere near William while he finds the woman he spoke so much of while we were away.” You giggle, unable to fault that logic, especially knowing what you did of Mary.

“She spoke of him just as much.” You shift the fur cape in your lap, progressing the stitch. “She is truly infatuated with your handsome friend.” Tovar nods as he finishes the bowl, setting it down as he stares into the fire.

“A common reaction to him. Most find pleasure in his pale eyes and smooth exterior.” He sounds almost…downtrodden when he says this and a frown pulls lightly at your lips as you set your work down in your lap. His eyes move to you when he finds you have stopped moving. “What?”

“You think yourself less than him.” It wasn’t a question You could read it on his face, in his eyes.

He shrugs, looking back to the fire. “My body has born more physical trials than his, and I carry the marks to show my victories. Women prefer the softness the William brings, not the hard edge they assume when they see my face.” He gestures to the scar across his eye, and your frown deepens.

“I think they are missing out,” you voice quietly, scooting closer to him on the bench as you reach out to lay your hand over his clasped ones as he leans forward on his knees. His eyes fall to your hand, so small compared to his own. “There is a richness to dark eyes that few know how to see, and a story to tell in every jagged edge. It is not simple, to know someone like you. But I do not think this a bad thing, Tovar.” Your voice is soft and gentle, soothing as your hand lays over his. Slowly, he turns to look at you, a light in his eyes and a softness around the edges. “Do not think yourself less than William, Tovar. You are no such thing.” You give him a reassuring smile and squeeze his hands before pulling your hand away, standing to go and hang the cloak after finishing the last stitches. “You need a roof to stay under tonight?”

“I was planning to sleep by my horse.”

“In the cold? I should think not! Lay out your bedroll here by my fire. You are always welcome here, Tovar. I have plenty of furs to keep you warm tonight. The Spaniard watches you, and oh how he longed to tell you that he wished it were something else keeping him warm tonight, but he doesn’t wish to stretch your hospitality further than you already have. “And don’t try to fight me on that.” You point the end of your broom at him before coming over to sweep where he will be laying out his bedroll. “I shan’t have a friend out in the cold when I have plenty of space to accommodate here.” For a moment, the scowl he wears falters just a bit, and you know it’s his attempt at a smile. That alone is enough.

Morning comes and when you wake to the sun through your window, you see the bedroll Tovar had laid out has been put away, the furs folded on the bench you shared last night. Your heart sinks, wondering if he had left without a goodbye this time. You rouse yourself from bed, stepping behind your changing screen to don your day clothes and your fur cloak to go gather wood from your stock pile and nearly smack into Tovar as he comes through the door. You let out a startled gasp as Tovar struggles to keep the logs in his arms.

“I’m so sorry! I thought you had left.” You take a few of the logs to lighten his burden, taking them to the cradle by the fire before adding a few to the hearth.

He grunts, setting the rest down before standing and dusting himself off. “To leave without thanking my host is dishonorable. I would do no such thing, _hermossa_.” There it was, that birth tongue of his that sounds like music to your ears and brings a smile to your face. “But I must say, now that you are awake, that William is waiting for me outside. We must ride now, we have much land to cover before nightfall.” Your smile quickly withers, but you nod, going to grab the cloak before handing it to him.

“Take this, and let it keep you warm and safe as the nights grow colder.” He gives you a lopsided smile that makes your heart flutter, swinging it across his shoulders.

“Such exquisite needlework. Nearly as exquisite as the woman who sewed it.” Your face heats again as he reaches out to cup your cheek gently. “Fortune keep you, _hermossa_.”

“And you, Tovar. Until we next meet.” He nods, turning to make his way to his horse. You stop in the doorway, waving to William before they once more gallop from town, off yet again to dance with the devil as the life of the adventurer demands.

When next the sound of galloping hooves meet your ears, nearly two years have passed, and you had taken solace in the fact that Tovar and his friend William were not returning. You shake your head as you cradle a little bundle to you, cooing softly to the babe as she stares up at you with big, blue eyes. This, like all the other times, was probably just someone passing through. The likelihood of the Spaniard returning for a third time seemed so beyond any comprehension that you do your best to no longer get your hopes up. After all, Fortune had already graced you with his return once before, surely she would not be so kind as to offer him to you a third.

“ _Hermossa._ ”

You were wrong.

The sound of his deep, gruff, sultry voice courses through you, warming you in a way that you hadn’t felt since his hand fell from your cheek two years ago. You spin around with a brilliant smile on your face, the little one still babbling in your arms as you stride to meet him. His face creases in bewilderment and he takes a step back as you approach, causing you to still. “Tovar?” you question, worry filling your soul. “What’s the matter.” His eyes are on the little bundle in your arms as he musters his courage to speak. It had been two years, what should he have expected? He didn’t ask you to wait for him, he didn’t even tell you he fancied you. So why is he so shocked to see you holding a child to your breast. Why is he…heartbroken?

“You… are a mother….” He swallows thickly, turning quickly to head to his horse as you stare at him, mouth hanging open. He would not linger over what was another man’s. He has more dignity than that.

“Tovar wait! Wait!” You call, running outside with the babe still cradled to you. “She’s not mine!” You call as he braces to mount his horse, foot in the stirrup as he turns his head just enough to show he’s listening. “She’s…she’s not mine. I’m just watching her for-.” You cut yourself off, biting your lip. This was not your story to tell. “For a friend. She isn’t mine, I swear to you.” He lowers his foot from the stirrup, slowly turning to look back at you, a wary light in his eyes.

“Then whose?” he demands, slowly making his way back over to you, looking down at the little girl in your arms. She stares up at Tovar with her big blue eyes, a shuck of sandy blonde hair peeking out from under her swaddle that you had sewn for her when you found out your friend was pregnant. “She looks like…” He trails off, looking up to you with eyebrows raised for confirmation and you hesitantly nod your head. Tovar lets out a breath, rocking back on his heels as he rests his fists on his hips. “ _Aye d_ _í_ _os mío…”_

As if on cue, the sound of galloping hooves once more grace your ears and you turn to see William riding up, Mary astride the back of his horse, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. You smile up at him and he gives you a shaky one in return before dismounting and helping Mary down. She promptly comes to take the babe from you, who happily coos when she sees her mother, thanking you before she turns back to William who looks as if he’s just seen a ghost. You gently take Tovar’s arm, leading him inside your cottage to give the couple some privacy. He makes no move to resist, instead following you as you shut the door and let out a sigh.

“She…the babe is…” He can’t seem to form the words, but you nod regardless.

“Nine months after you and William last left. The babe is just over a year now, and has so much of her father in her, it’s impossible to pass her off as anyone else’s child. Mary struggled greatly with the fact that she would most likely be raising the child on her own… Most of the village shunned her for bearing a bastard child. Called her impure and a whore. Though how anyone could shun such a beautiful babe as the one Mary holds in her arms is beyond me.” You let out a frustrated sigh, walking to tend to the fire. “The life of a sellsword does not befit a family, Mary and I both know this. We know how the winds carry you both.” Tovar watches as you move about the cottage, idly moving things as if to distract yourself.

When you next pass by him, he grabs your wrist gently to still you in front of him. “ _Hermossa_ ,” he whispers, gravely in his throat in a way that makes you shiver. “Tell me honestly… Is there another to whom you belong? Speak only the truth for my heart cannot bear anything else.” You stare up at him, seeing the light of desperation in his eyes, his jaw tense. Could it be that the yearning you had felt all those nights for the past two years were felt by him as well? All those thoughts you had pushed away, had he been thinking them too?”

“There is no one else, Tovar. There never has been anyone else, not since the day you first came to me nearly three years ago.” Tovar lets out a puff of air that ghosts over your face with a feather light caress as he brings his other hand up to lay gently upon your cheek as he did the day he last left you.

“You waited for me? With no knowledge of if I would return?”

You reach up to lay your hand gently on his and nod. “I prayed that you would one day return to me. That I would feel this hand once more against my cheek. I longed to see you at my doorstep once more and to hear those foreign words on your tongue as you spoke to me. With all these in my mind, heart, and soul, tell me how I was to find someone else and not be overwhelmed with guilt and sadness at the betrayal of emotion towards you? Tell me how I could betray my own heart in such a way?”

“You…thought of me….”

“Every night, Tovar.”

“Pero.” Your brow creases at his interjection. “My name. My first name. It is Pero. Pero Tovar.”

“ _Pero_ ,” you whisper, reveling in the feeling of his name on your tongue. It feels so right. Pero’s thumb traces along your cheekbone with that same tenderness with which he bandaged your hand those years ago. “Will you be leaving again, Pero?” You dread the answer, knowing that it is the life he leads.

“Do you want me to leave, _hermossa?_ ” His voice once more holds that almost imperceptible worry as his shoulders tense for your reply, as if waiting for you to strike him. When you shake your head, the tension slowly dissipates. “ _Por favor_ , let me hear you say it.”

“I do not want you to leave again, Pero. Twice now I have bid you farewell, watching as you take to the road you call home. Twice now I have waited, watching out my window in hopes that I would see your silhouette in the distance, riding towards me. Twice now I have spent countless nights yearning to have you under my roof… Yearning for what was not mine to miss. Please, Pero Tovar, I beg you. Do not make me suffer this again.” Tears well in your eyes as you entreat him to stay, his thumbs reaching to gently wipe any errant tears that find their way down your cheeks. Slowly, he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as you tremble in his hold, your hands gripping his wrists as he cups you face. When he leans back, his eyes nearly shine, that rich brown swirling with so many emotions it makes you dizzy.

“Then, if you shall have me, I will stay.” He drops a hand from your cheek, taking yours to place it over his own heart. “ _Mi coraz_ _ó_ _n._ Two fools we are. Each time I left it felt as if I should turn around and race to you and take you in my arms. Beg you to keep me. Plead you to accept this weary old man as yours. When I saw you with the babe and thought I had missed the chance Fate had offered me, I cannot describe the pain I felt here. Your cloak kept me warm every night. It kept me tied here, to you. For so long, it smelt of you and your home, and I knew that some day I must return.” Your name spills form his lips like a prayer. “You will have me stay? You will have me share your home? You will have me?”

You sniffle, knowing exactly what it is he is asking, knowing that Fate has afforded you this third chance in her abundant generosity and you know that you cannot squander it. To tell him no would be to lose him forever, and the thought of such an atrocity causes your heart to ache. “Pero Tovar, you are always welcome here. What’s mine, if yours. I will have you stay, I will have you share my home, and I will have you.” The smile that crosses his face is so genuine that your feel fresh tears rush to your eyes. He brings your knuckles to his lips, kissing along them gently as he watches you, his own eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles. His other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you against him as he leans in, pressing his lips gently to yours in the first kiss of what would be countless more. Your eyes slip closed as you wind your arms up and around his neck. Pero Tovar is finally home, and your heart is finally full once again.

Dear Fate, how kind you have been.


End file.
